Martin Amis
By 
The great British novelist and critic has died:
Martin Amis, whose caustic, erudite and bleakly comic novels redefined British fiction in the 1980s and ’90s with their sharp appraisal of tabloid culture and consumer excess, and whose private life made him tabloid fodder himself, died on Friday at his home in Lake Worth, Fla. He was 73.
His wife, the writer Isabel Fonseca, said the cause was esophageal cancer — the same disease that killed his close friend and fellow writer Christopher Hitchens in 2011.
Mr. Amis published 15 novels, a well-regarded memoir (“Experience,” in 2000), works of nonfiction, and collections of essays and short stories. In his later work he investigated Stalin’s atrocities, the war on terror and the legacy of the Holocaust.
He is best known for his so-called London trilogy of novels — “Money: A Suicide Note” (1985), “London Fields” (1990) and “The Information” (1995) — which remain, along with his memoir, his most representative and admired work.
I admire all three of the London trilogy, but my favorite has always been The Information, about a failed novelist consumed with jealousy over his more middlebrow best frenemy:
A good story:
The story was about writerly insecurity (not Amis’s but the insecurities of all the Brooklyn writers who would admire and also resent him once he entered their turf.) initially, he didn’t want to talk to Xian for the sorry.— Elizabeth Spiers (@espiers) May 20, 2023
I go to some real estate event for work and Jared Kushner, my boss then and the publisher of the Observer, corners me. Says he has issues with the cover story. “Nobody knows who fucking Martin Amis is,” he says.— Elizabeth Spiers (@espiers) May 20, 2023
The story itself is very funny and well done because @xlorentzen is a brilliant writer. When Xian left the Observer to go to the LRB, he left me a copy of Amis’s MONEY, inscribed with a joke about doing coke off it. Amis would have liked it, I think.— Elizabeth Spiers (@espiers) May 20, 2023
R.I.P.